


Promise

by alasondria



Category: Phantasy Star Online 2
Genre: F/M, Luthaly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasondria/pseuds/alasondria
Summary: The prince of Cuent meets a Verunian refuge.





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> OC/Canon featuring (Omega) Luther and my OC Alasondria.

Tucked in the outskirts of Cuent, hidden by a thicket of evergreens, sheltered from the cold in the tavern of a homely village, they made a promise.

 

She was propped up in bed with pillows supporting her frame, feeble as it was. He sat in a rickety chair beside her, his coat thrown over the back. She spoke softly, but with the fervor and cadence of a woman who danced with death and lived to tell the tale. He listened with his arms folded over his chest; when her regaling of her derring-do hinged on an anxious moment he leaned forward, doubtless unaware he did so.

 

She paused at one part of her recollection, her lips drawing into a faint frown. He beheld her with concern etched clearly on his face.

 

"If it's too painful, you needn't speak of it."

 

She waved a hand in the air. "It's nothing of the sort, really! I am... troubled by the encounter."

 

"The encounter?"

 

"My confrontation with the Emperor's younger brother. He seemed pleased to let me go."

 

Luther appeared perplexed for a moment. His brows drew forward and his mouth formed a taut line. "Elmir has never been in Cuent's sight for long, whenever our scouts passed over Verun he hid behind his brother's walls. I'm afraid I know fair little about his motives."

 

"I see," Alasondria murmured. "Before, he was no threat to your nation, but now..."

 

"Now he subjects the people of his nation to his experiments," Luther growled, his voice low and dark.

 

Alasondria peered cautiously at the prince.

 

"...Ah, excuse me. The young lord's actions merely remind me of another idiot I once knew. Ephemera is no play thing. It should  _ not _ be used in such  _ brazen _ ways."

 

"Quite right," the woman offered, tone distant.

 

A pause settled between them and Luther felt markedly discomforted by it. The two had gotten on fine once the trepidation about her background was lifted, so talking amicably happened as naturally as it would as if they had been childhood friends. The silence served to remind Luther, however, that she was as much a stranger to him as he was her.

 

Until she laughed softly, like a bell in the quiet air, and spoke at last.

 

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said. "Elmir let me go and so here I am; away from him, away from Verun."

 

"What will you do here if I may ask?" Luther quirked a brow.

 

"I would like to study magic here. Cuent I know is infamous for its wealth of knowledge on magic. I want to... cultivate what lays dormant in me, that I might stand a chance against Elmir if he does intend to keep his word."

 

"Hm," the prince hummed to himself, a hand drawing up to rest under his chin idly. "Our studium is rigorous. Studying there is a guaranteed success in becoming fine-tuned in all things magic, but it is not, itself, a guaranteed option. There is a veritable breadth of entrance exams and prerequisites you must undertake to get in."

 

"Assuming I am allowed to undertake those to begin with," Alasondria supplied, a tinge of defeat in her voice.

 

"Unfortunately, I hold a regretfully small amount of sway over the people of my kingdom. Prince or no, without the authority granted to me, my words hold no power. I cannot command them accept you into the school."

 

Alasondria frowned. "And neither would I ask you to. That would be unconscionable."

 

Luther beheld her briefly with a curious gaze. "What would you do, then, if this door is closed?"

 

"Find another," she offered, resolved. "There must be some other way and I mean to find it."

 

"Well," Luther began, hoisting himself up from his seat. "You needn't look much further. How would you like to study directly under me?"

 

"...What?"

 

"As far as materials and texts are concerned I've as much as the studium would have for each course you would  _ theoretically _ be taking."

 

Alasondria blinks up at the prince. "...You are serious?"

 

"Why would I not be?" Luther asked.

 

But his answer was not met with words. Rather, Alasondria fell upon him in an instant, vaulting from her spot on the bed to swing her arms around his neck, unthinking, for the moment, that she was flinging herself upon the  _ prince of Cuent. _ She did not care. She breathed out what had seemed like a hundred thank you's in his ear, shuddering in his hold as the relieved sobs flooded her.

 

Utterly frozen by the sudden display, Luther hesitated to bring his arms up and pat the young woman's back but when at last the shock wore off something warm blossomed in his chest and he smiled to himself. It had not struck him until then that he had offered, quite plainly, to save her life. Her bargain with Elmir rode on her strength surpassing his; whatever the Emperor's brother planned to do with her afterwards should he reappear before she found the means to do so Luther did not linger on. He did not need to.

 

Not only would she rise up to be an unparalleled mage with him, she would have allies in Cuent. Of that he would make sure. Elmir could try all he'd like. Breaching the borders would be one thing, managing to wrest Alasondria from his grasp now would be another entirely.

 

Alasondria pulled away first, staring up at Luther with eyes brimming and a watery smile pulling at her lips. After a beat, she snapped back and promptly scrambled away to return to her spot under the covers. Her cheeks were a brilliant red and Luther was sure his had a tinge of colour to them as well, lest the heat he felt rising around his eyes and ears mean anything.

 

Sheepishly, Alasondria bowed her head. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I-- That was... unacceptable behavior."

 

Luther cleared his throat.

 

"No need for concern," he said briskly in an attempt to regain his steadily dwindling composure. He straightened out his vest and pressed it down with one hand, his other moving to smooth back his hair.

 

Alasondria swallowed hard, nerves alight after the adrenaline from before had at last ebbed out.

 

The silence in the room that filtered in afterwards frazzled the pair until a knock sounded from the door. Alasondria started, gripping the sheets around her with a taut, white-knuckle hold. Luther glanced at her briefly before he turned an ear towards the newcomer.

 

Muffled, he heard his sister speak. "Is everything okay, brother?"

 

"Quite fine," he called back, trying in vain to curb the slight irritation that wormed its way into his tone. Though grateful as he was for the distraction from the woefully awkward air floating between him and his company, he'd steeled himself to continue onwards despite it and Harriet's knock came precisely at the moment his bravado peaked.

 

"Alright, if you say so, brother," Harriet offered from a distance, hesitance obvious in her voice.

 

They exchanged a look and Alasondia found a soft laugh escaped her. She put a hand to her mouth to hide it. Luther peered at her openly.

 

He hadn't realized before the way her eyes creased and her nose crinkled on her laughs, or how her laughs were usually so subtle in the first place; restrained, perhaps unconsciously, to be little more than a quiet giggle. He did  _ not, _ however, fail to note the way it made his stomach flip and his cheeks burn.

 

She held his gaze and for a second it felt like those few moments ago; when they traded words easily, but it was gone at the sound of another knock.

 

Luther actually groaned.

 

"M-my apologies, Lord Luther, but word from the king," came Valna's flustered voice.

 

"We'll clearly never get more conversation in at this rate," the prince muttered low to his company. Alasondria managed a sympathetic smile and Luther tried in earnest to ignore the soaring of his heart when he chanced to see it.

 

Instead he busied himself with addressing Valna; a fine excuse to remove his eyes from the woman who made his palms clam up.

 

He turned towards the door and gestured in the air.

 

"Yes, yes. Enter."

 

The door creaked open with the meek adjutant following suit, his armour rattling around his frame as he stood at attention to salute his lord.

 

"His Majesty the king has requested you and Lady Harriet return at once."

 

Luther stared Valna down, his eyes critical as he sized his sister’s aide up and down. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

 

Turning on his heel to hale Alasondria with a broad smile, hidden from Valna’s noticeably curious gaze boring a hole in his back, he announced. “We shall visit the king. Together.”

 

“M-my lord?!” Valna balked.

 

Alasondria gawked at the prince and her voice came out as little more than a whisper. “You cannot be serious.”

 

“Quite like I was before, I am now,” he offered her, his smile softening.

 

“Lord Luther,” Valna fell to a kneel before him and bowed his head, one arm crossed over his chest as he spoke slowly. “If you will it, we will deliver you and lady Harriet back to the castle with this woman, but… forgive me, my lord, is this a good idea?”

 

“Valna you are an astute knight and tactician and your skepticism in the face of an assumed enemy being given refuge in our capital would largely be commended by your colleagues. However, I am not your colleague,” Luther spoke to his sister’s adjutant in a clipped tone. “Alasondria is a Verunian who, having narrowly escaped her country and its tyrannical rulers, begged asylum in Cuent. She has not withheld any information about her circumstances. What’s more, she has given us excellent insight as to the state of our unfortunate neighbours.”

 

Valna held his tongue as Luther continued.

 

“The tactical choice to be made here is taking her back to Cuent so that she may fully recover. Would you not agree?”

 

At this he peered over his shoulder at Valna, who cautiously lifted his head to meet his lord’s stony visage. He looked beyond Luther’s frame to the young woman sitting up in the bed behind him. She responded with a subtle dip of her head, as if in apology.

 

“I shall see that the arrangements be made, my lord,” Valna said.

 

“Thank you. Ah, and Valna? Do make sure the king isn’t notified of our friend’s existence. I would rather not overwhelm Alasondria with a court appearance first thing.”

  
  


“Understood. By your leave,” Valna straightened up and saluted briskly, retreating from the room afterwards to inform Harriet. 

 

Luther loosed a deep sigh.

 

“Forgive me,” Alasondria muttered weakly. “I must be making quite a mess.”

 

“Worry not. That boy is loyal to Cuent but it is my sister he values the most. I fear he might think of you as a threat to her safety.” Luther laughed and shook his head.

 

“I do not know any other way to let him know that I am not a spy for Verun. I would sooner die than return to that country.”

 

“That conviction is how,” the prince mumbled, fixing his attention firmly on Alasondria. Hesitantly, he raised a hand, faltered, and then pressed on, reaching out to place his index finger and thumb below her chin and lift her head up, forcing their eyes to meet.

 

Alasondria blinked up at Luther. Luther’s mouth formed a taut line. The room was quiet, but markedly missing the tension from previous pauses.

 

“Pardon me,” Luther cleared his throat and swiftly retracted his hand, letting it fall to his side awkwardly as he leaned away from the woman before him. “I shall let you rest a while more. I’m sure one of Valna’s soldiers will come for you when we are ready to depart.”

 

“A-Alright,” Alasondria sputtered, properly out of sorts after the prince’s abrupt display. “Thank you... Luther.”

 

The prince’s breath caught in his throat upon hearing Alasondria call his name with no titles. It had struck him instantly, but it was not something unwelcome--rather, it was comfortable.  _ Right.  _ If his life had been a puzzle, incomplete until now, then this women, in one sudden motion, fit the final piece into its place.

 

“You’re welcome, Alasondria.”


End file.
